Let Us Talk of Life
by Pip's Sister
Summary: A Wuthering Heights story. Catherine Linton's ghost comes for her lover, Heathcliff, after he dies. What does she have to say to him?


Title: Let us Talk of Life  
Author: Pip's Sister/Ms. Marvel 1  
Fandom: Wuthering Heights  
Pairing: Heathcliff/Catherine Earnshaw-Linton  
Rating: PG for short sexual and necrophiliac refrences  
Archive: Yes, but please tell me first.  
E-Mail: felicitypirrip@yahoo.com  
Disclaimer: Heathcliff, Catherine Earnshaw-Linton, Catherine Linton-Heathcliff, Hareton Earnshaw, Joseph, Edgar Linton, Isabella Linton-Heathcliff and Master Earnshaw (Catherine's father) uh... WERE all the property of Emily Bronte. Who owns them now I'm not really sure of, but I know I don't and I'm not making any money off of them. This is just for non-profit entertainment purposes.  
  
Notes: This is another one of those classwork assignments turned fanfiction. The project was to write a conversation between Heathcliff and Catherine's (the older one) ghosts after Heathcliff's death. So, I wrote this. Not great by any means, but I kind of like it.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Thunder boomed and freezing rain poured down on the moors, but earthly storms could hardly stop the ghost's trek. Catherine Earnshaw-Linton walked through the storm, her blue eyes frozen to the house in front of her.  
  
"Wuthering Heights," the dead woman whispered as she stepped through the gate.  
  
It was late. Most of the servants had gone to bed, but Catherine could hear her daughter and Hareton laughing near the fire as well as making a noise or two which would certainly upset Joseph if he happened to hear it.  
  
"Disgusting," Catherine snorted as if she were truly repulsed. She considered for an instant the humor in visiting young Cathy and Hareton, but knew that wasn't why she was here.  
  
No. She was coming for Heathcliff.  
  
The dead woman pulled herself up the fir tree that led to her own room, making sure her feet did not slip on the boughs of the tree, which were slick with rain. In her life, climbing the tree was always a difficult task, and despite her having done it many times since her death, it never became easier. That was one of the unfortunate disadvantages of being dead.  
  
At last she reached the window. A gasp escaped Catherine's mouth as she peered through the window and saw Heathcliff's bleeding hand resting on the sill.  
  
"Surprised, Catherine?" asked a sarcastic voice. Catherine looked up and saw Heathcliff's spirit standing behind his corporeal form. "This is not the first time you have seen a dead person, is it?"  
  
Catherine shook her head, remembering how she once held her the cold body of her father in her arms. "No, it is not."  
  
"I have waited for you a long time, dear Catherine," Heathcliff walked closer to the window. "So, so long. Oh, I've missed you so these past torturous years."  
  
The dark-haired man reached out to stroke his love's beautiful golden locks when the dead woman slapped his hand.  
  
"And who's fault was that?" she demanded as she yelled over the sound of the lightning.  
  
"My love…"  
  
"You killed me, Heathcliff! If it wasn't for you I might have seen maturity, might have lived to see my daughter, perhaps even her children. But no, because of you I left her, just like my father left me. Your marriage to Isabella drove me to hopelessness, Heathcliff. How did you think I could live without you being mine?"  
  
"About as well as I did!" Heathcliff glared as the wind smacked the fir bough Catherine sat on against the lattice window. "You had no right to leave me. You had no right to run off with Edgar. It was me you loved and you know that."  
  
"I married him to help us! Heathcliff, I could have done nothing for you as your wife. I planned to marry Edgar to help your standing-"  
  
Thunder clapped in the distance. Heathcliff snorted and turned his face away. "It was nice of you to tell me about that."  
  
"I would have! I would have told you, but I never had the chance. Instead you ran off without telling anyone like an immature child."  
  
Heathcliff shook his head. "Oh, I am not the immature child here, Catherine. I was not the one who defied her own heart for her selfish image."  
  
"Please listen…"  
  
"You listen! Catherine, I loved you with all of my heart. All of my soul! You were what mattered the most to me. I could have suffered any anguish, any torture, as long as you were mine. It wouldn't matter to me if we were homeless beggars on the street. I'd trade all of Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange for a night with you. However, it was clear you never loved me so much."  
  
"But I did, Heathcliff!" Tears rolled down Catherine's cheeks as she cried out through the storm. "I truly did. I would have adored being your wife, having you at my side every moment. But I couldn't! No one would have allowed it, don't you understand?"  
  
"No. No, I do not. I don't understand how if you loved me as much as you said you did, you could have left me. I don't understand how you could have let Edgar into your heart if you truly thought I was the one for you. No, I don't understand. I can't understand. How could you make such a cruel choice?"  
  
"What other choice did I have?" Catherine bowed her head. "I'm only a woman and also a lady. Marriage was my only way of improving my stance."  
  
"If that's true, then why did you rage at me about my marriage to Isabella?"  
  
"Because that wasn't done for any type of love at all! That was done for spite. That was done solely to hurt Edgar and me. Furthermore, I'm surprised that you could cry out for me in the last hours of your life, demanding that I come to you or dig up my mortal form and soil me with your love, yet do such a cruel thing."  
  
"Catherine…" Heathcliff whispered as he held out his hand to her.  
  
The wind howled, whipping Catherine's curls against her face. She shook her head, then began to descend the tree. "I won't be here to have you hurt me in death as well as life."  
  
"No, Catherine!" Heathcliff called. "I won't have you leave me again!"  
  
"What do you want from me?" the dead woman looked up at her companion. "What do you want?"  
  
Another roar rang out over the moors. The rain became yet fiercer.  
  
"I want you," whispered Heathcliff.  
  
Catherine sighed. "Then why did you kill me? If you hated me so much, why did you want me out of your life?"  
  
"You never left my life. You were with me every moment. I saw you everywhere. Felt you everywhere. You were in the sky, in the moors themselves. My God! Hareton and Cathy look so much like you. Everywhere I went I was reminded you. You followed me everywhere, Catherine, and I know that was because you loved me. You weren't content to spend eternity with Edgar. You wanted it with me."  
  
"I… I did," the ghost-woman admitted. "I didn't want to see you, but everything in me compelled me to. I couldn't leave you."  
  
"And now that I'm here, you can't leave me now. We're a part of each other, Catherine."  
  
"Yes. I… I once told Nelly, that… that I was you."  
  
Heathcliff nodded. "I am you, as well."  
  
"Then join me."  
  
The dead man exited the window and the two climbed down the tree to the ground. Heathcliff wrapped his arms around Catherine's waist and pulled her to his chest. The lovers closed their eyes as they kissed.  
  
Heathcliff then took Catherine's arm and they began to walk. They walked out of the yard, out through the gate, out of Wuthering Heights, and off to the moors.  
  
The End. 


End file.
